


Martyrdom

by snarechan



Series: Gladnoct Week (2018) [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Airships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gladnoct Week, M/M, gladnoct - Freeform, gladnoctweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: Whether Noctis wanted it or not, Gladiolus was going to see that he lived through this catastrophe.





	Martyrdom

**Author's Note:**

> In response to [Gladnoct Week’s](https://gladnoctweek.tumblr.com/) prompt for **Day Five: Duty vs. Desire**. I don't think I mentioned this on Tumblr, where I'm posting these stories first (considering it's a _Tumblr event..._ ), but this is probably my crowning glory as far as my results is concerned. I'd been contemplating writing this on-again, off-again for probably a good year before discovering this community and buckling down to finally write my vision. 
> 
> Mostly, I was kind of let down by the fact that we the players never got a chance to be a part of the Insomnia evacuation as it was originally planned. _Kingsglaive_ gave us some tasty insight and tons of Luna, but I’ve remained unsatisfied. So in the realm of fanfiction, I thought I’d finally expand on the idea where the gang wasn’t able to leave beforehand (and put a gladnoct spin on it, naturally). 
> 
> As for the prompt… _oh boy_ , do I love me some conflict. :9 I imagine that Gladio is constantly warring between the expectations piled onto him by others and himself, but also the _wants_ of everyone and himself. Putting Noct first comes easily enough for him, but why and at what cost? It’s delicious for me to contemplate. I’ll never get enough of it.
> 
> Edited by Glyphenthusiast; you have my eternal gratitude!

“Let me go! Do you hear me? Put me down,” Noctis screamed. His commands echoed in the stairwell, the strain in his voice amplified. More adamantly, he said, “I  _order_ you to release me!”

Ignoring his pleas, Gladiolus went so far as to tighten his hold on him. Both arms wound tightly around the smaller man’s torso and kept both of Noctis’ hands close to his body. The positioning made it difficult to manage the steps and break open the exit door, but he dragged Noctis along bit by bit. He used the broad side of his shoulder to ram into the obstruction and manhandled Noctis outside. The prince continued to kick and protest, but his struggles barely had Gladiolus out of breath.

To his ears, Noctis started to sound desperate. All pretenses of decorum had dropped at the sight of the Lucian cityscape, and how it was on fire. “ _Gladio_ , stop! We have to go back; turn around, dammit!”

Gladiolus’ eyes scanned for another escape route: a nearby balcony, a fire escape,  _anything_. Didn’t matter what, if it meant they got off this death trap of a roof. They were running out of time; Gladiolus identified the sounds of thundering footsteps behind them. Noctis must have heard the approaching noise, too, as he stopped struggling to listen.

The threat of encroaching Niflheim soldiers renewed the prince’s efforts to be freed. His cursing came fluidly now, while Gladiolus hurried to the edge of the Citadel. If there was a ledge or a window, they might be able to backtrack and gain a little more time to plan their next move. Instead, an enemy airship reared up in front of them.

He skidded to a stop, Gladiolus' burnished boots for show and lacking traction on the loose stone. A greater wind kicked up, sending their hair and torn garments billowing. Gladiolus gritted his teeth and repositioned so he was between the perceived threat and Noctis, until a familiar voice rang from the speakers.

“ _Get in! This contraption is barely keeping together as it is. I’m uncertain how much longer it’ll hold_ ,” Ignis warned.

His relief at the advisor’s impromptu arrival was short-lived. Their enemy swarmed the area, weapons already drawn. Ignis was in the middle of maneuvering the airship closer, any sort of access to the transport several feet away, and leaving Gladiolus with few options. Coming to a split decision, he adjusted his grip and threw Noctis toward the rear hatch. Although the prince didn’t go quietly, he did disappear inside and away from enemy sight.

Hands empty and his ward secured, Gladiolus turned on his aggressors. Sword and shield both materialized, sparing him from a hail of bullets. He pushed back, intent on buying the airship an opportunity to retreat. A storm of return fire came from  _above_ him, however, mowing down the opposing soldiers. Ignis’ voice rose from the speakers, imploring him to hurry as his ammo stores were low.

Gladiolus hesitated.

A part of him wanted to stay and fight –  _viciously so_. The urge tightened his fingers on the hilt of his sword in preparation to do just that. His blood pumped with unbridled adrenalin and the need for justice. Niflheim had assaulted their home under the false pretense of peace talks. These dogs of Niflheim were unworthy of his blade, but for what they’d taken away from Lucis, _from Noct_ , he’d cut them all down.

Just as quickly as the fury sought to take him, Gladiolus reigned in the emotion. The plan had been to delay the soldiers, not confront them, and now he was wasting Ignis’ dwindling efforts. It was time he returned to his charge’s side.

He about-faced and ran, dismissing his weapons mid-stride for the sake of speed and efficiency. Gunfire whizzed all around him. Gladiolus leapt off the edge. Something nicked him in the arm and threw him off his trajectory.

His body rolled across the front of the airship. Narrowly, he stopped himself from collapsing off the other side. Gladiolus’ left hand caught on the ridge of the transport at the last second and he dangled there by three fingers.

“Floor it, Iggy!” he shouted, already trying to right himself. Ignis, whether intentionally or not, steered the transport into a dead drop. The airship veered wildly and almost tossed Gladiolus off again, but he managed to swing his body toward the cockpit window. He slid into the co-pilot’s seat when the airship rocked back-and-forth. It wasn’t Gladiolus’ most graceful maneuver, considering he’d sprawled into the chair head first, but he avoided the hail of bullets pinging on the hull of the airship.

Their enemy’s gunfire heralded one of their engines blowing with a heavy  _oomph_. They fell further. Prompto’s frantic instructions to push up  _all_ the overhead switches rang in their ears repeatedly, but Ignis had to clutch the control stick with both hands. He was forced to stare through one eye, as a head wound bled into the other and obstructed Ignis' vision.

Seeing him wrestle with the controls and determining that he was a little busy, Gladiolus followed Prompto’s directions in his stead. He righted himself and kicked out with his foot, toeing all the switches to the up position in a single swipe. Whatever it activated whirred beneath his seat and got them airborne once more – or as much as Ignis could regain control, leveling them off. And they appeared to be out of range of the Niflheim troops.

“ _H-holy shit. Are you guys okay? Speak to me!_ ” Prompto asked. It took Gladiolus a breathless moment to gather his bearings and realize he wasn’t crazy; he  _had_ heard the other man’s voice. His hails filled the cabin, although Gladiolus wasn’t sure of the source.

“Prompto? How are you doing this?” he asked.

“ _I’m here, G. Well, I mean, not physically—_ ”

“He’s stationed with Cor, beyond the…where the Wall once stood. I believe they’ve managed to seize a Nif campsite and their respective equipment,” Ignis explained, cutting off Prompto’s rambling. He nodded toward a video-screen in the center console. Prompto’s face filled up most of it, making it a wonder Gladiolus had ever missed the fact. Then again, he’d been rather occupied with not hugging the ceiling during their descent to really notice. “Prompto hacked into their network and patched himself through to help me pilot this blasted thing.”

Ignis appeared more agitated at the state of his flying and the ‘quality’ of Niflheim’s machines, rather than his injury. He rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand a little agitatedly. All he accomplished was smearing the blood, but whatever laceration had started the flow must have stemmed for the time being. He seemed cognitive; Gladiolus still worried about a possible concussion.  _Later_ , he determined, forced to prioritize.

“ _Yeah… The Nifs set up some kind of barricade and we can’t breach the city from here. Cor had no choice but to order an emergency evacuation of the public_ ,” Prompto said, which explained all the commotion on his end, now that Gladiolus could observe. Shouts from frightened men, women, and children being rushed along by barks and commands of others occupied the background. “ _Did any of you guys rendezvous with the Kingsglaive? We lost contact with the company once they retrieved Lady Lunafreya._ ”

Gladiolus and Ignis both answered in the negative. Prompto looked more frantic as he asked, “ _Well, what about the king? His council?_ Anybody?  _We’re running around confused as hell out here._ ”

“King Regis is dead.”

The silence was stifling in the wake of Gladiolus’ announcement. Ignis went rigid, hands twitching on the controls before freezing with the rest of him. Prompto wasn’t nearly as composed. “ _…What? I…what?_ ”

“Inform Cor that the Council has been executed and His Grace was felled by the traitor Drautos,” Gladiolus said, managing not to stutter over this revelation, though it was a near thing. The notion, _the reality_ , that someone swayed by Niflheim had gained so much influence and achieved such a close relationship to the king was incomprehensible.

If they survived this, Gladiolus vowed to never allow this mistake to happen again.

He continued, “Niflheim has taken the Crystal…and the entire city.” Without staring either man in the eye Gladiolus shot to his feet, which was no easy accomplishment. Niflheim airships, the combat models especially, were not equipped for someone of his immense stature. He gripped the bulkhead to keep stable as he asked, “Iggy, can you get us out of here?”

The suggestion burned the back of his throat like bile, but with Regis’ assassination, the different Lucian forces scattered, and casualties immeasurable they were forced to regroup and reassess their situation. Not to mention the precious cargo they were carrying; Gladiolus wanted as much distance between Noctis and Niflheim as possible in this war torn world.

“We have to get Noct out of the hot zone. Once word gets out that we’ve stolen an airship they’re gonna come for us. You need to sneak us away while we can.” Ignis didn’t respond. Hand clenching at his side, Gladiolus snapped, “ _Ignis_.”

“Yes,” he gasped, seeming to come back to himself. He shook his head as if to clear it. “Of course. It shall be done.

"Although, they will be expecting us to head towards civilization, such as Hammerhead.” Ignis mused. “Should Prompto’s assessment confirm that we have enough fuel, I propose we travel Eastward through the floodgates undetected. We can regroup with our remaining squadrons once attentions have waned.”

“Do it,” Gladiolus agreed, trusting that both men would complete their assignments. Ignis was as determined as him to protect their liege and Prompto was nothing if not ready to be helpful. “Once we’re clear of Insomnia’s borders, aim for Cor’s camp and don’t stop for anything.”

A racket at their backs alerted them to the prince’s presence. He glanced over his shoulder, then curtly told them he was going to check on Noctis. He turned away from them, ignoring the nervous back-and-forth Prompto’s eyes did on the video-screen.

The blond placed a hand over the camera on his end, as if beseeching them, but whatever he had to say he kept to himself. His sights settled on Ignis, who faced forward now. He seemed to contemplate the airship controls with an intensity that took up all his focus, shoulders slumped and brows furrowed.

A tentative conversation started up on Prompto’s end, coaxing Ignis on technical particulars and how best to adjust their flight path. There was no more discussion of their circumstances or their turbulent future. Gladiolus knew a more in-depth report would have to be provided and a better course of action hashed out. Not to mention he had a sister out there somewhere, running for her life and unaware of their father’s passing. But the same as Ignis’ injuries it would have to wait when Niflheim was no longer breathing down their necks.

There was a tight corridor past the cabin, and a sealed door after that. Gladiolus had to pry it apart with his bare hands as, during the turbulence, some kind of safety procedure had initiated to seal off the different sections. Another hallway greeted him. This one led to some doors on either side that must be sleeping quarters for the two or three man crew it was supposed to ferry.

The walls and floor were all metal. Gladiolus saw his reflection, albeit hazy at the edges, as he ducked through the corridor. Like the cabin, it had been built for the people of Niflheim and not the giants of Lucis. He paused to take in the sight of himself.

His dress uniform was in tatters, but most notably his right elbow. The jacket sleeve and undershirt were sliced clean through, showing his tattoo. He vaguely remembered receiving the hit, although the laceration hadn’t registered for him at the time. A smattering of other cuts, such as a split lip, and bruises were already forming all across his body.

The pauldron and other minor accents were scuffed in places, if not outright falling apart. Irritated at the uselessness of his apparel, Gladiolus removed the jacket and 'armor’ entirely, then wrenched both sleeves clean off with a firm tug each. It’d been tailored too tight to begin with, limiting his range of motion, so should the worst come to pass again he wanted his limbs free.

At the end of the hallway, several  _somethings_ banged on the door. Gladiolus assumed it was a freight hold where Noctis had ended up after he threw him into the airship because it was no doubt the prince putting dents in the door. The locks were active here, too, preventing Noctis from leaving the way he’d come or accessing the rest of the airship.

He paused and stood steady at the threshold. Gladiolus closed his eyes and breathed slow in opposition to the chaos inside. He understood what was coming, how Noctis must be feeling, and Gladiolus resigned himself to his fate.

Taking a step back, Gladiolus kicked in the electrical lock panel. He kept his posture military straight while the entrance whooshed open. Gladiolus remained there, watching Noctis stumble a step as the door suddenly retracted on him. Amongst an array of broken and upturned boxes, he panted, looking haggard with a dagger in each shaking hand.

His father, King Regis, had permitted his son to wear a simple business suit. It’d been expensive and luxurious for the occasion, yet utterly as pathetic at protecting him as Gladiolus’ own militaristic version had been. His tie had long been abandoned and shirt un-tucked. A tear in his right shoulder had unraveled enough that the sleeve hung low.

Noctis was flushed and disheveled and oh, so  _alive_.

It made matters easier for Gladiolus to accept when Noctis punched him. He’d dismissed his weapons in a flash of light and reared back with his fist, hitting Gladiolus in the face. He’d used the hand now adorned with the Ring of the Lucii. A sharp point of metal scratched across Gladiolus’ cheek. He knew there would be a welt there later, hidden for now by a thin line of red. Gladiolus hadn’t tensed in anticipation, instead turning his head in the direction of the strike.

“Why didn’t you _save him?_ ” Noctis screamed. He was furious, in a way Gladiolus had never been privy to. The kid who couldn’t care less about the universe and its perceptions or going-ons had died an hour ago, when he’d borne witness to the Council’s slaughter and his own father being stabbed through the heart. Their enemy had arrived earlier than anticipated, delaying any sort of travel plans, and left them with… _this_.

“That backstabbing asshole was right there! You could have stopped Drautos from killing my—” He choked up. Tears clung to Noctis’ lashes, but Gladiolus didn’t mistake his actions for weakness. The way he reached up with both hands and took Gladiolus by the collar of his shirt was anything but weak. Inclining his head to regard the prince, the laceration on his cheek and the glint of the royal jewelry on Noctis’ finger served as a reminder of that.

“You’ve trained to be bigger and stronger than anyone else your entire life, and for what?” Noctis didn’t want answers; he just wanted to put the final nail in the coffin. “He’s still dead and it’s all your fault! We – you – just left him there to die.”

In the tense moment that followed, Gladiolus let the other man’s rapid gasps fill the silence until he asked, “You done yet?”

Noctis sucked in a sharp breath. “The entire Council fought the Emperor’s forces to the end.  _Your_ father took a sword to protect him! He was your king, why couldn’t you—”

“ _You are my king_ ,” Gladiolus finally snapped. When Noctis tried to release him, pulling away, Gladiolus lashed out and took him by the wrist. Noctis didn’t struggle against his hold, but he did make a fist as if to punch Gladiolus a second time. “Drautos was going to eliminate King Regis  _and_ you when he caught up to us! I could only save one, so I defended  _you_.”

Gladiolus brought Noctis’ hand to his lips; the cold metal of the ring pressed into the skin. Then he brought Noctis’ hand to his chest and placed his knuckles over his heart. “So go ahead. Blame me, despise me, hurt me—”

Noctis clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head. “No.”

“—do whatever it is you need to do. I can take it. All of it.”

Noctis wavered on his feet, muttering the same word over and over again. Gladiolus tugged him close; Noctis didn’t fight him, his entire body collapsing against his torso. He enveloped the prince in his arms, but his gaze trailed up to the ceiling. The blood that had been gathering on Gladiolus’ cheek finally fell.

Over Noctis’ stuttering breaths, he said, “Because I promise, no matter what, I won’t stop protecting you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [writing blog on Tumblr](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/) for more content!


End file.
